You had me at hello, screaming at goodbye. I fortunately don’t want to die. I felt hurt and numb. 7 days passed and I also felt dumb. Outside, you’re a nubian queen. Inside you make me wanna scream. Ignorance! Flaky. Snaky. Sneaky. Well you do like money and are loosely into sales. I can’t believe I fell for your sales. I may or may not have bars. One thing for sure is you could sell used cars. Your nubian skin is appealing and glowing. Your hair in any style is lovely and flowing. Too bad the inside is corrupt. Your heart and soul are bankrupt. I can see why you’re alone. You don’t respect anything set in stone. Please stay where you are and we’ll keep it moving. I will continue grooving. I honestly wish you well. Good riddance and you can find another untruth to sell. I’ll sleep well tonight and I don’t know about you. Guilty consciences are real and they can reach you too. Every nubian woman isn’t a queen. They are simply a nightmare, a dark, terrible dream.